


A Dog's Life

by The_smallest_chibi



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Magic, Medieval Fantasy AU, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Wat are tags, inaccurate use of knight hierarchy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_smallest_chibi/pseuds/The_smallest_chibi
Summary: Dogs of the King, or Dogs for short, are slaves trained by the crown to hunt down rebels and help uphold the law. Connor, a Dog, is assigned to Hank, a gruff paladin who's become disillusioned with the monarchy and society. Together, they uncover the conspirators behind the rebellion while learning more about each other along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi i like crafting intricate fantasy aus and never finishing them. i've seen a little bit of dbh but not a lot because i want to play it one day so sorry if they seem OOC.

A man sat at a desk, the surface littered with papers and letters. He wore a pensive look on his face as he looked down at the report he was writing. Off to the side of the desk, a young man stood straight and tall, staring blankly ahead of him. He wore light armor, made of a mix of cloth and leather, with the King’s crest on his chest.

The door slamming open, drawing both of their attention. 

“What did you need me for, Fowler?” A man with long grey hair and a unkept grey beard stepped into the room. He wore the armor of a paladin, his sword strapped to his waist and his shield on his back. His armor was a little scuffed and smudged, indicating that he either didn’t care much for appearances or didn’t out of laziness.

“Hank, about time you showed up.” 

Hank stopped in front of the desk, frowning. Fowler looked up at him, taking note of his bloodshot eyes and the faint smell of alcohol. “You've been drinking again.” 

“Yeah, and I still would be if you hadn't called me here. What do you want.” Hank’s eyes left Fowler and turned to the man standing next to the desk, immediately zeroing in on the crest. “No.” 

“Hank, I haven't even-” 

“I don't fucking care,” Hank snarled,”I'm not working with Dogs.” He turned and started for the door. 

“Hank!” Fowler rushed to his feet and ran after him. Just as Hank reached the door Fowler’s hand gripped his arm.

Hank whirled around. “Let go,” he growled into Fowler’s face, teeth bared. 

Fowler bared his teeth back. “You fucking listen to me,” he said in a low voice. “I know you said you'd never work with them, but I have no other choice. The King wants to know how they function out on the field. Out of all of my men, you're the best and I’m trusting you with this.”

“And if I refuse?” 

“Then I have no choice but to put it with Reed.”

The two men stared at each other, trying to will the other to back down. Hank’s eyes flickered to the man still standing next to the desk and Fowler knew he won. “Fine, but don't expect me to get along with it.”

“I'm not expecting you to be friends with it. You just have to work with it long enough that we can say it works well outside then it'll go right back.”

Hank huffed. “It fucking better. I'm not a babysitter and I don't have time to be taking care of a witch.”

Fowler turned back to the man. “Come here,” he beckoned. 

The man silently walked over to him and stopped a few steps away. His expression was blank and emotionless, his eyes empty and Hank almost felt like he was staring at a life sized doll instead of a living being. 

“Introduce yourself.” 

“My name is Connor,” he said in a tone devoid of all emotion. “I was sent by His Majesty to assist the Order in quelling the influx of insurgency in his kingdom.”

Hank looked at Fowler. “They couldn't send anything with more emotion?” 

“Isn't it better for you so it doesn't get on your nerves?” 

“I guess. What do I do now?” 

“Now you just wait until it's time for your patrol. Now get out and let my finish my work.”

And without another word, Fowler kicked them all out of his office. 

Hank glared at the door, cursing under his breath. Connor stood silently, obediently, awaiting direction. “Well c’mon then. I guess you'll just have to follow me around for the next hour until it's time.”

Hank strode off down the hallway, not looking back to see if Connor was following behind. Connor moved to follow when suddenly Hank whistled loudly. Connor blinked when a huge, furry mass moved past him to follow the man's heels. It took a moment for him to see that the creature was a dog. A really big, furry, impressive beast that looked like it could take down an entire wolf pack by itself. Connor followed behind the dog. 

Eventually, they arrived at the mess hall. Various paladins and squires milled around the hall. Some in their armor and some not. Hank walked past all of them and sat at a empty table close to the wall. He pulled out the flask that had been hanging at his waist and began drinking from it. From the smell, Connor guessed that it was some kind of wine. The dog laid down next to the table and put his head in his paws. Connor stood next to the table, looking out across the hall. 

A few moments passed before Hank spoke up. “What are you standing around for? Sit down or go hover somewhere else.”

Connor looked down at Hank. “I can sit?” 

Hank looked up him incredulously, as if he was asking if the sky was purple. “Of fucking course you can sit. Why? Do you have a problem with sitting here?” 

“Some people don't like it when I sit with them. They feel it's degrading to sit at the same level as a witch.”

“Well, I don't give a flying fuck just stop hovering over my shoulder.”

Connor moved to the opposite side of the table, sat in front of Hank, and continued looking out across the hall. 

Hank stared at Connor with a pensive frown. He'd heard rumors that the King was experimenting with witches to sniff out escaped slaves and rebels, hence their title Dogs of the King. 

He could count the number of times he'd seen one in the flesh on one hand, and usually it was at a distance. From what he’d heard from other paladins, they were generally emotionless. Whatever training they went through inside the castle squashed any sort of personality within them. Probably to discourage them from rebelling themselves, Hank thought to himself, feeling slightly sick just thinking about what kind of fucked up, psychological torture they have to go through to become like this. 

Eventually, Hank grew tired of the silence. “Hey you,” Connor blinked and looked at Hank blankly, “how long have you been out on the field?”

“This is my first time outside the castle.”

Hank groaned. “Great, they gave me a greenhorn to work with.”

“You needn't worry. His Majesty wouldn't have assigned me to you if I was inexperienced. I’ve gone through years of training with the sole purpose of hunting down dissenters of the crown.”

“Oh yeah? And how many years of training do you have?” 

“That is confidential.”

“Of course it is,” Hank muttered, taking another sip from his flask. 

Connor turned his head away from Hank and eyed the dog. He moved to rest his hands on the top of the table and fidgeted with his fingers. He kept glancing at Hank when he thought he wasn't looking at him. 

Hank sighed internally. “Spit it out already.”

Connor stopped fidgeting and looked at him, confused. “Spit what out?” 

Hank frowned. “It's a figure of speech. You have something to say, right? Just say it already.”

“I don't-” 

“Don't fucking lie to me,” Hank pointed a finger at Connor’s face. “I've trained enough squires to know when they have something to say so spit it out.” Hank assumed he was gonna ask him about what kind of creatures he'd had to deal with or tell him that drinking before a patrol wouldn't look good for the Order. Hank was fully prepared to shut down whatever he was planning to say. Which was why he was completely flabbergasted by what actually came out of his mouth. 

“Is that your dog?” 

Hank blinked. “Yes?” 

“What’s his name?” 

“...Sumo.”

“That's an interesting name. Definitely not a common tongue name. Eastern name?” 

“Yeah, got him from an Eastern merchant for saving his caravan.”

“He’s an impressive beast. He's an exclusive breed that only lives in the eastern continent?” 

Hank nodded. “From what they told me, though I'm not sure what exact breed he is. The merchant told me that they're used as guardians for temples.”

“Fascinating,” Connor murmured in awe at Sumo before turning to Hank with a serious look on his face. “Can I pet him?” 

Hank stared blankly at him. Of everything he'd expected of a Dog, Connor was everything he'd expected and nothing at all. As the silence continued, the hopeful glow in Connor’s eyes began to fade and he started to retreat back into himself. 

“I apologize. I overstepped my boundaries-” 

“It's fine,” Hank blurted out. “Go ahead.”

Connor perked up and reached down towards Sumo. “Hi Sumo,” he said in that high pitched voice all people seemed to use when talking to dogs. Sumo perked up and started panting, his tail wagging a little. Connor ran a hand through his soft fur. “My name is Connor. Looks like we'll be working together for a while.”

Hank watched silently. The Dogs gave off the impression of being little more than obedient puppets that followed the whim of the King, from what little he'd seen and heard of them. Seeing Connor happily petting Sumo made him seem no different from any other person who came up to pet his dog. It’s funny, he thought faintly, a Dog petting a dog. Suddenly, he shook his head to disperse his thoughts. He wasn't going to get to attached to it.

Just as he was about to take a huge swig from his flask, a squire burst into the mess hall and scanned the room. His eyes settled on their table and he quickly walked over to them. 

“Sir Anderson! Multiple escaped slaves have been reported on the edges of the forest. You are required to assist in their recapture.”

Hank grumbled curses under his breath,stowing his flask. “Yeah, yeah I’m on my way.” He pushed himself up from the table and immediately headed for the stables. He heard Connor’s footsteps following at his heels not soon after. Despite the annoyance he felt, he couldn't deny that he was a little excited to see the Dog’s skills in person. 

 

They arrived a little less than an hour later, the sun still high in the sky and beating down unrelentlessly. Luckily the tall trees from the surrounding forests provided enough shade to take the edge off. 

Hank and Connor dismounted at a clearing where several other paladins were already gathered. As Hank was tying his horse down, a voice called out to him. 

“Well, well, if it isn't the resident drunk coming to join us. What happened, Anderson? Ran out of wine? The tavern is back in town.” 

Hank swore under his breath. “Fuck, I can't believe I'm stuck working with this asshole.” He turned around as a Paladin walked towards him. “Funny, I thought they were going to take away your sword after the last time they let you out.”

“Please, I'm the best Paladin the Order’s got. Unlike you, I don't spent all my days drinking myself into an early grave.”

“Fuck off Reed,” Hank snarled. 

Reed opened his mouth to make another retort, but then he noticed Connor standing behind Hank. “And who's this?” Connor stared up at Reed, his eyes once again blank and emotionless. Reed looked him up and down, and then his eyes were drawn to the crest on his armor. He burst out laughing. “So you've finally sunk so low that they had to assign a Dog to you? That's rich,” he sneered. 

Connor remained motionless, but Sumo moved to stand beside him. Sumo growled at Reed, his voice coming out like the roll of thunder as he bared his teeth. 

“Sumo hasn't really eaten much today so I suggest you back off before I let him start gnawing on you.” Hank drew himself to his full height, towering over Reed. 

Reed backed up quickly. “Fine, I'll get started on this mess. Not like I need your help anyway.” He retreated back to his squad and disappeared into the forest. 

“C’mon, let's find out what kind of shit show we're dealing with.” Hank walked towards one of the the other paladins milling about. “Chris! What's going on here?” 

The paladin Chris turned towards Hank. “Hank! Glad you could finally make it. This slave caravan was heading towards town when it was attacked by rebels.” He motioned to an overturned wagon. “They can't have gotten far. Everyone else has gone to scour the-”

Suddenly, a distant shout came from the forest.

“They're getting away! After them!”

Chris and Hank immediately started running towards the sound. Through the trees they could see figures running through the brush.

“Dammit, they're so far ahead. Chris, you head off to the right and I'll-” Suddenly, a blur shot past Hank. Hank watched in disbelief as Connor raced past him towards the escaping slaves.

Connor reached out one hand and a bolt of lightning shot out, striking a tree next to the tailend of the slaves. The slaves screamed and a handful of rebels broke away from the group to confront him. One of the rebels still running, a blond haired one, skidded to a stop and turned back.

“What are you doing!? We have to run!”

“Get them to safety! We'll hold them off!” 

“But-” 

“If we don't stand our ground here the Dog with get us all!” The rebel gave him a shaky grin. “It's been a pleasure working with you, Simon. Tell Markus that I didn’t regret joining his cause.”

Simon nodded, his face twisted in grief, and ran after the fleeing slaves. 

The rebel turned back to Connor, who finally reached their group. Another rebel moved his hands in a rising motion and a large stone wall encircled them.

“We’re going to take you down with us!” he howled. He gestured again and spikes of rock burst out of the ground toward Connor.

Connor smoothly dodged to the left, and then leapt into the middle of the group. Before they could even blink, Connor quickly pulled out a dagger and slashed open one of the rebel’s throat. 

He quickly fell, making gurgling sounds. The leader of the group howled in rage and suddenly a massive bipedal wolf stood in his place. The werewolf lunged at Connor, slashing at him with his massive claws. Connor just barely managed to sidestep out of range, dropping his dagger. He quickly murmured under his breath and brought his hands together with a loud clap. A sudden bright light burst from his palms, blinding the rebels and the sound of thunder echoed through the forest.

The werewolf howled in agony, leaping away from Connor. He shook his head in an attempt to recover. When the world finally returned back to normal, the rest of his group was on the ground, dead. Connor stood in the middle of it all, barely winded, blood splattered on his clothes, and unfazed as if he hadn't just killed four men.

The werewolf fell on all fours, a gave a bleak chuckle. Connor tilted his head warily. “Why do you continue fighting for them?” The werewolf growled. “You're one of us. Do you think that they'll eventually accept you as one of their own? They'll never see you as more than a tool, a slave, a monster.” 

Connor slowly inched closer with his hands out, completely prepared to counter the werewolf.

“Not even listening to me. I guess it's true what they say. Dogs are nothing more than puppets with no will of their own. They call us both monsters, but of the two of us the most monstrous one is you!” The werewolf snarled, launching himself. 

Connor threw himself to the side, but wasn't quick enough as one of the werewolf’s claws caught his side. Connor grunted hitting the ground and smoothly transitioning into a roll and settling into a kneel.

The werewolf landed and skidded around, bounding back towards Connor with his jaws wide open. Just as he was about to bite off his face, Connor twitched a finger and a massive rock spike burst out of the ground, impaling the werewolf. The werewolf howled in agony, clawing at the stone bursting through his stomach before trying to claw at Connor. Connor watched impassively as the claws fell a few inches short. The werewolf’s movements slowed until he was finally still.

As Connor became aware of his surroundings, he heard a voice shouting beyond the rock wall.

“Connor! Connor, are you alive!? Fucking say something!” Hank shouted in panic. Connor reached out a hand and lowered the wall. “Connor! You fucking idiot! What do you think you-” Hank’s rant trailed off as he took in the dead bodies and the werewolf impaled on the rock. 

“Holy shit…” whispered Chris.

“I wasn't able to stop the slaves from escaping. These rebels broke away from the group and tried to stall for time. We have to return back and report to the Captain.” Connor moved to walk past them but Hank’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

“No one's going anywhere. You're injured!”

Connor looked down at the red stain the was slowly growing bigger on his side. “It's only a graze. I'll be fine.”

“Bullshit, you're not fine. Come here and sit while I heal your wounds. Chris, tell the others that the slaves escaped. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes.” Hank said as he pulled Connor gently towards a nearby log. 

“Right away, sir!” Chris saluted and ran to pass on the message. 

“This is unnecessary,” protested Connor, “We really should-” 

“Kid, if you don't shut the fuck up I'm going to knock you out myself.” Connor shut his mouth and sat down on the log. “Show me your wound.”

Connor slowly pushed up his armor, wincing as it unstuck from his skin from the blood. Hank inspected the wound before placing a hand above it. He murmured an incantation and a glowing light appeared under his palm. Connor relaxed as he felt the soothing light begin to knit the wound back together. 

He started when he felt a cold nose on his hand. Sumo whimpered, nuzzling his hand. He patted the dog’s head, hand curling into the soft fur.

“Next, don't go jumping in by yourself.”

Connor frowned. “My entire purpose is to kill insurgents.” 

“I know, but you wouldn't live long if you keep fighting by yourself. Next time, wait for me to get there so I can help.”

“If I hesitate there's a greater chance of them escaping. I have to engage them as quickly as possible in order to fulfill my orders.”

“Fuck your orders,” growled Hank, reaching up with his other hand to grip Connor’s shoulder. “I'm just asking you to have a little self preservation. If you keep going into fights alone one day you won't get out alive.”

Connor stared, confused by his concern. “Why do you care?” 

Hank opened his mouth, about to go on another rant about self-care, then stopped. Connor was right. Why did he care? It was only a witch and he'd never cared about witches before. But in that moment, when the rock wall fell and he saw Connor standing there, covered in blood, a deep fear had filled him. Instead of seeing Connor there, he thought he saw his-

Hank immediately shut down that thought. “It's just… Sumo would be sad if you died. So don't do that again, got it?” 

Connor looked at him a moment longer before turning his gaze downwards. “Got it.”

“Good,” Hank patted his shoulder and stood up, “Now, let's get back. I'm tired, hungry, and need another drink.”

“Drinking is bad, you know. It lowers inhibitions and reflexes. It muddles your thoughts.” Connor piped up. 

“That's why I drink. I can't deal with all this shit while sober.”

Connor hurried after him with Sumo hot on their heels. 

 

Later that night, after they'd both had eaten at the nearby tavern, they returned back to the barracks. As Hank headed towards his quarters, he had a sudden thought. 

“Kid,” he said, turning to Connor, “Did Fowler assign you sleeping quarters?” 

Connor nodded. “He said that I'll sleep with the squires.” 

Hank frowned. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the squire quarters, it was just that he wasn't much of a fan of the squires in general. In his opinion, the squires that joined the Order nowadays mostly came from wealthy families and were stuck up brats who cared more about fame than justice. No doubt a witch would not be welcomed there.

He sighed. He really didn't have to do this, but the thought of Connor being ostracized and bullied left him uneasy. “The squires probably won't appreciate you intruding. Just stay at my quarters. Since I'm a higher ranking in the Order I have enough space to house another person.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn't want to be a bother.”

“Too late for that,” Hank muttered. “This way, I don't have to come fetch you every morning and you don't have to come looking for me.”

Connor nodded, seeing the sound logic in this. “Then I will fetch my belongings and move them to your quarters. Thank you.”

Hank waved him off, already heading towards his room. “Yeah, yeah, just don't take too long.”

“I won't.” Connor patted Sumo’s head. “C’mon boy, do you want to help me carry my stuff?” Sumo barked enthusiastically and the two ran towards the squire quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank: i don't give a shit about my job  
> narrator: he did, in fact, give a shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're multi-chapter bois. thanks for all your comments!

Hank was having a peaceful sleep until he felt someone prodding his shoulder. He grumbled and turned over. “Go away Sumo it's too early.” 

“Lieutenant, if you don't get up now you will be late for morning patrol.”

Hank yelped and shot up into a sitting position. He looked over and saw Connor standing over his bed. “How the fuck did you get in here?” 

Connor blinked in confusion. “You allowed me to sleep in the servant room that's connected to your quarters.”

The previous day started flooding back to Hank. He leaned over and kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I did, didn't I.”

Connor took a step back and shrunk into himself. “If you are regretting it I can always-” 

“It's fine!” Hank said quickly, and then sighed. “Just give me a bit to get dressed.” Then he looked out the window. “What time is it anyway?” 

“Just a few hours after dawn.”

“God, it's too early to be up.” Hank muttered, mourning his sleep. He looked at Connor and saw that he was already dressed. “How long have you been up?”

“I awoke just before dawn.”

“Just before-- What are you? Part rooster?” 

Connor tilted his head. “You know that I’m a witch so why do you ask that?” 

Hank shook his head. “Nevermind just… give me a few minutes.”

“Of course,” Connor retreated back to his room to wait for Hank.

Hank sighed. Today was going to be a long day, he thought with a growing headache. When he finally finished changing he went to find Connor. 

Connor was sitting on his bed and staring blankly at the wall. In his hands he held a coin that he kept bouncing and flipping between his fingers. Sumo lay on the bed next to him with his head resting on Connor’s leg. Already the big lug was attached to him, Hank thought wearily.

He filed away Connor’s coin tricks under ‘Weird Connor Quirks’ and then stepped into the room. “Connor, let's head downstairs.”

Connor startled, dropping his coin. “Oh, coming!” As he reached down to pick up his coin, Hank surveyed the room. 

The room was supposed to be living quarters for personal servants, but since Hank preferred his privacy over any domestic help that servants might provide, he never saw the need to get one. 

Before Connor moved in the room was dusty and empty. After Connor moved in the room was still dusty and mostly empty, excluding his small sack that he used to carry his shockingly small amount of clothes. From what Hank could see, Connor only had at max three outfits. And then considering his injuries the day before, he was actually down to two given that one set was ripped and bloodstained.

Hank repeated in his head that he didn't care that the kid barely had any clothes. He continued repeating this to himself through breakfast and out into the streets where they started patrol. 

He gave up after passing the third tailor in a row.

“What are we here for, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, looking around the shop curiously. 

“Clothes.” Hank replied vaguely. 

“Oh,” Connor looked up at Hank. “For you? Clothes should be bought when you're off duty.” He admonished him. 

“It's not for me.” Hank grunted before waving down the tailor. “Tailor, I need some basic sets of clothes for this kid here. Don't pick any fancy material.”

“Of course,” the tailor bowed and approached Connor to take his measurements. 

Connor stood frozen as the tailor measured his height. “Lieutenant this isn't necessary!” Connor exclaimed in growing panic, much to Hank’s amusement.

“That's bullshit and you know it. You only have three sets of clothes and one of them is covered in blood. I'm not letting you walk around town in bloodstained clothes. It'll look bad on the Order.”

“But I can't pay you back for them.”

Hank waved a hand dismissively. “Consider it a welcoming gift or something. I don't care.”

Connor continued arguing but eventually gave up when he realized Hank was ignoring him, begrudgingly letting the tailor take his measurements. By the end of it, he had five new sets of clothes to be delivered back to Hank's quarters. 

Connor stood outside the shop in a daze while he waited for Hank to pay the tailor. Sumo happily leaned against his leg as Connor scratched his head, absentmindedly.

Finally, Hank exited the store. “Alright, now that that's over and done with we can continue walking around and pretending we have important shit to do.”

“Lieutenant,” Connor said looking up at Hank, “Thank you for this. I'll try to repay you back as soon as possible.”

Hank frowned. “What part of ‘it's a gift’ don't you understand?” He shook his head. “Forget it, let's just keep going. We still have a lot of daylight before we have to head back.”

Just as they were about to head off, a voice shouted from across the street. “Sir Paladin! Please wait!” 

The pair stopped and turned towards the voice. A woman dressed in peasant clothes ran up to them. “Is there something wrong, ma’am?” asked Hank gruffly.

The woman stooped to briefly catch her breath. “Please, you must help me!”

“What's the problem?” 

“I live on the edge of town and there's an old house just down the street. It's been empty for ages, the owners left the kingdom and abandoned it. A few months ago I started seeing a man coming in and out. I figured he must have been a squatter and thought nothing of it.” The woman swallowed nervously and started wringing her hands. “I've been hearing loud noises coming from the house for the past few weeks. A couple days ago I heard someone shouting. I haven't seen anyone leave the house or heard anything since. I'm afraid that a terrible creature moved into the house and killed whoever was there. I can't sleep at night knowing there might be a monster living in that house.” The woman wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. 

Hank gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “We'll check it out. However, you must tell the Order so they can send a patrol just in case we aren't able to kill whatever it is.”

The woman nodded vigorously. “I shall go right away! Thank you, Sir Paladin!” And after directing the pair to the house in question, she ran off. 

“There goes our easy patrol,” Hank muttered with a sigh. ”Let's go see what sort of unholy beast has taken up residency in this house of hers.”

 

The edge of town functioned as the slums for the lower class peasants. Most of the houses looked weathered with patched roofs and worn stone walls. 

The abandoned house was more rundown than usual for the area. Many of its roof tiles were either missing or in the process of falling off, some of the windows were boarded up, the door was boarded closed, and various pieces of rotting debris surrounded the property. It was the perfect image of a haunted house.

Hank and Connor circled around, looking for a way in. They found their entrance via a hatch that Sumo sniffed out, hidden among the tall weeds. Hank lifted the hatch and immediately the smell of mold, damp, and something rotten wafted up from the depths. Hank gagged while Connor tried to keep a straight face but ended up a scrunching up his nose instead. Sumo began to growl, unsettled by something inside. 

“Okay, let's be careful and stay close. Remember what I told you before. Don't go off by yourself. Wait for me, got it?”

Connor nodded his head, meeting Hank’s eyes. “Got it.”

Hank scrutinized him, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or not. Eventually he turned back to the hatch and Connor assumed that he was satisfied with whatever he saw. “Stay behind me.” He turned to Sumo. “Sumo, guard.” Sumo barked once and assumed an alert position, scanning the area. “Sumo will stay here and guard just in case someone tries to escape or sneak in behind us.”

The two descended into the dilapidated cellar and into a corridor, where they saw various pieces of rotted furniture strewn about. As they went deeper, the place slowly started to look more lived in. Boxes of bottles were lined up against the wall and a few chairs that looked serviceable sat on the side. At the end of the corridor, through an open door, they found a large room that was the proper basement of the house. In the center was a rectangular wood table with straps on it. Against the far wall was another table, covered in various laboratory equipment and various bottles filled with different colors of liquid. 

A strange sight indeed for a supposedly abandoned house. But even more disconcerting was the body propped up against the wall next to the equipment table. Hank approached it warily but it was clear that whoever the person was they were most certainly dead. Connor looked over Hank's shoulder as he examined the body.

“The body has multiple stab wounds.” Connor stated. “Whoever killed him used a knife, but I don't see the knife here. Do you think the culprit took the knife?” 

“Most likely. God, the smell of blood is really thick in here.”

Connor looked around the room. “I want to say that it's coming from the body, but I think it just added to the overall smell. It looks like the victim was using this room for testing.” Connor wandered to the table covered in laboratory equipment. “A lot of this is decent grade equipment. He must've been here for a while to accumulate all this.” He picked up a bottle filled with red liquid and sniffed it. 

“Connor, I hope you're not thinking about drinking that.” Hank said with concern.

“It smells a little like blood. Maybe he was making blood based potions?” Connor put down the bottle and searched the table. He saw a few scattered pieces of paper and scanned them.

“That sounds fucking disgusting. What kind of desperate idiot would buy that kind of potion?” 

“Customers looking for enhancement potions.” Connor replied. Hank walked over and started reading over his shoulder. “He experimented on a lot of different slaves, from weres to faerie folk. He'd strap them to the table, drug them until they were too weak to struggle, and extracted blood and other body parts for his experiments. They didn't live long it looks like.”

Hank gritted his teeth and turned angrily to the table in the center of the room. The straps on the table were torn and various colors of blood stained the surface. “I guess his slave broke free from the table and killed him. Fucking hell, human or not this isn't something anyone should be subjected to. I'm glad that fucker is dead or I would've killed him myself.”

Connor’s eyes caught sight of a bloody handprint on the corner of the table, smaller than the dead body’s. He tracked the progress of the blood trail and saw it lead to a room off to the side. A storage closet? He glanced at Hank, who had his back turned to him and was still examining the table. 

Connor moved towards the stairs heading up to the first floor. “It looks like the slave might’ve escaped upstairs. I'm going to check and see if I can find more evidence.”

“Oh no you don't,” Hank growled, turning away from the table, “I'll check upstairs and you stay down here, out of trouble.”

“Of course,” Connor ducked his head, “Be careful up there, it might still be here.”

“I should be telling you that. I’m the veteran here.” Hank went up the stairs, leaving Connor by himself in the basement.

Connor cocked his head as he listened to Hank’s progress on the creaky floors. When Hank moved further into the house, Connor walked towards the storage room where he saw the bloodtrail. As he approached the doorway he quietly pulled out his dagger and held out his other hand warily, prepared to launch a spell in case his dagger was countered. He pressed himself up against the wall next to the doorway and peeked inside. The room contained two empty cages, supposedly for holding slaves, and a couple large wooden crates. The bloodtrail led behind one of the crates in the far back. 

Connor stepped fully into the room and walked up to the crate. He looked over it and saw a huddled figure in the corner.

The slave was a harpy, wings curled over his seemingly broken arm and in his other hand he wielded a bloody knife. He was alarmingly thin and trembling, wearing blood splattered, threadbare clothes with a slave collar around his neck. His wings were clipped, as was standard for most harpy slaves. He looked up at Connor, his eyes widened when he saw who had stumbled upon his hiding spot. At first, Connor thought he would try and defend himself in his weakened state or start shouting, at the least. Instead he just sat there, watching and waiting for Connor to make the first move.

Connor tilted his head. “Aren't you going to say anything?”

For a moment, the slave said nothing. And then he spoke. “What do you want me to say?” he asked in a soft, raspy voice. “Do you want me to plead for my life? Beg you to spare me out of the kindness of your heart? I know what you are. You Dogs are all the same. Just get on with it and put me out of my misery.”

Connor clenched his hand around his dagger and raised it, but hesitated from making the killing blow. He frowned. Why couldn't he bring himself to kill the slave? He hadn't had trouble killing the ones the day before. Was it because this one wasn't fighting back?

While Connor pondered this, the slave watched closely. His eyes widened in sudden realization. “You're having second thoughts. You don't want to kill me.”

“No,” Connor denied. “I have to kill you.”

“You don't have to do anything they say.” The slave glanced up at Connor’s neck. “You don't wear collars like slaves. Why do you continue to follow their orders?” The slave looked into Connor’s eyes, his expression softening with pity. Connor hated it.

“Are they holding something over you?”

Connor shook his head, shaking away his troubling thoughts. This wasn't like him. He had a mission to complete and he couldn't afford to stray from it. He pulled his apathy close around himself, like a cloak against the elements, against his emotions. “Slaves who have killed a human must be put to death,” he droned in a monotone voice, “as stated by royal decree.” Connor took a step forward, ready to put down the slave as quickly as possible. The slave panicked, cowering back further and curling behind his feathers. As Connor considered how to get past the wall of feathers to strike the killing blow, Hank called down from the first floor. 

“Connor! I don't see the slave up here. In fact, I don't think it was ever up here to begin with.” Connor froze, caught between answering Hank and focusing on the task at hand. “If I find out you led me on a wild goose chase you're going to learn what happens to squires who don't listen to their senior officers.”

Connor felt his heartbeat quicken as he rapidly calculated the quickest, cleanest way to dispose of the slave. He could pull the wing back and slit his throat, but it would be messy and he wouldn't be able to pass off the slave as already dead while covered in blood. He could try and suffocate him but it wouldn't be quick and would look suspicious. Maybe if he-

“Connor?” 

Connor gritted his teeth and stowed his dagger. “I found him, Lieutenant. He's down here.”

He heard Hank curse and the loud, thudding of his steps as he rushed down the stairs. He appeared in the doorway looking furious. “Connor,” he said, pointing his finger at him sternly, “when we get back we're going to have a serious talk about doing what you're told.”

Connor stepped back from the slave and crossed his arms behind his back. “Of course. I'm sorry for disobeying orders.” He averted his eyes to the ground, to express that he was shamed and properly chastised.  
Hank glared at Connor, refusing to be fooled a second time, and moved towards the slave. The slave peeked from behind his wings, watching Hank’s approach. 

“Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know what happened here.” Hank said gently. The slave remained silent. “What's your name?” 

“...Oro.”

“Oro, your arm is broken?” Oro nodded. “Hold out your arm and I'll heal it for you.” He hesitated, and then retracted his wings and offered his arm. Hank reached out and gently gripped his arm with one hand and used the other to heal the break, the soft glow filling the dark space and shining upon Oro’s dazed face.

Connor watched with apprehension. “Lieutenant,” he said hesitantly, “royal decree states that-” 

“Fuck what the royal decree says.” Hank said firmly, not turning around. “If he was a criminal I’d obey, but he's clearly the victim here.”

Connor’s hand twitched to his dagger. Oro, who was watching him, flinched and tried to pull back. Hank kept his grip on his arm.

“Connor, don't move from your spot.” Surprisingly, Connor found himself obeying the order. “Now, I'm just going to ask you a few questions,” Hank directed this at Oro,”Is that alright?” Oro nodded his head. “Okay, did you kill that man in the other room?” He nodded again. “Can you tell me what happened?” He opened his mouth, but then hesitated. “If it's too much for you right now you don't have to tell me.” Hank said patiently. 

Oro took a few deep breaths before speaking softly. “He was using my blood to make potions that would give people eyesight as sharp as a harpy’s. There was another slave before, a naiad. She died last week and I knew it was only a matter of time before it was my turn.” He swallowed nervously. “I didn't want to die and I was so desperate to live. All I remember was that he was about to drain me of my blood and then I was stabbing him with his knife.” He sniffed, wiping away tears with trembling hands.

“It’s alright now,” Hank murmured gently, “He's dead and you're safe. I won't let anything happen to you. You have my word.”  
Connor broke his silence, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Lieutenant, with all due respect but I must ask you to move. His Majesty’s laws must be upheld.”

For a few moments, Hank didn't reply. When he finally deemed that Oro’s arm was sufficiently healed he stood up and turned to face Connor. Instead of the controlled, empty expression Connor usually had when he performed his duties, he wore a concerned frown. When Hank remained unmoved, Connor decided to appeal with reason. 

“It's only a slave. There's no reason to go this far for it. It'll be executed despite your objections.” Instead of placating Hank, the words just seemed to further anger him. 

“That's what they always say, don't they? They're only slaves, they're only meant to serve and obey. It doesn't change the fact that they are still living beings. I tried to ignore it and follow my orders, but a paladin who just stands by while someone suffers is not the kind of paladin I wanted to be.” Connor and Hank faced each other in silence, stuck at a standstill. 

Finally, Connor averted his gaze. “Captain Fowler will tell you the same. He'll order the slave to be executed.”

Hank raised his head defiantly. “Let me deal with Fowler. As a lieutenant, he'll at least listen to what I have to say.”

Connor merely nodded his head. “I'll leave all the major decisions to you.”

Hank stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Connor looked up at Hank's smiling face. “Thank you for trusting me.” Then he turned back to Oro and reached out a hand. “I'll escort you back and have them treat your wounds properly.”

As they left the room and entered back into the main room of the basement, the sounds of Sumo’s barking came from the entrance. 

Multiple footsteps could be heard coming down the hall and just as Connor and Hank were about to draw their weapons, they heard a voice. “Anderson! Tell your dog to shut up before the whole neighborhood comes out!” shouted Reed as he walked into the room.

“Fuck, out of all the people they had to send him.” Hank grunted, then he whistled loudly down the hall. Sumo’s barking immediately stopped. 

Reed walked into the room, flanked by two other paladins. He quickly scanned the room, saw the dead body, and settled on Oro, who was standing behind Hank. “I'm guessing that's the one who killed that guy over there? Why's it still alive?” 

“This slave is a victim of abuse and mistreatment. He killed out of self defense.” Hank growled. 

Reed sneered and stepped up to Hank. “Law states that a slave that has killed a human must be put to death no matter what the circumstance.”

“And I'm saying that this slave is an exception. Step down, Reed. This is an order from your senior officer.”

The two glared at each other. Then, Reed backed up out of Hank’s way. “Have it your way.”

Without another word, Hank led the slave and Connor out of the house and back towards the barracks. As they left the house behind, Connor wore a pensive look as he thought over Hank’s words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to my friend flukks for being my beta reader. i have the next few chapters mapped out but still no solid end so i guess i'll cross that bridge when i get there ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor and hank have a heart to heart and gavin is a dick as usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changed the title and the summary because i wasn't satisfied with how it sounded. this chapter is longer than usual so cheers.

“Bullshit! What happened to this Order? We were once known as the Holy Swords of Justice.” Hank motioned to the Order’s crest on his armor, “But now? This crest means nothing! We're nothing more than soldiers, pawns without morals!” Hank shouted, slamming his fist on the surface of the desk. 

Fowler sat in his chair like statue, unmoved by Hank’s fury. “There's nothing I can do, Hank. You know this. Royal decree is law and I can not disobey.”

“For once, can't you overlook this one?”

“I can't.” Fowler sighed. “Hank, leave it alone. It'll be executed tomorrow and that'll be the end of it. Don’t do anything rash.”

“Jeffrey-”

“I said,” Fowler growled, standing up from his chair and leaning into Hank’s face, “leave it alone. That's an order and you’d better fucking listen.”

Hank glared at Fowler, his rage manifesting in his rapidly reddening face. “I don't know why I shouldn't just turn in my coat of arms right now. It doesn't mean anything anymore and I'm sure as hell ain't proud to wear it.” Hank stormed out of Fowler’s office without hearing his reply, slamming the door behind him. 

Connor, who'd been standing outside next to the door, jolted in surprise. Hank didn't acknowledge him and went straight to the mess hall. Connor hurried after him with Sumo at his heels. By the time he reached the mess hall, Hank was already halfway across the room and heading to the counter.

Chris, who’d been sitting at a table and eating, raised a hand to greet Hank from across the room. He froze when he saw the thunderous look on his face as he stormed by. As Conner walked past, Chris met his eyes with raised eyebrows. Connor merely turned away and rushed to catch up to Hank, who was starting to make a ruckus at the counter. 

“Wilson, just give me the bottle before I come back there and get it myself.”

The cook, Wilson, shook his head. “All this drinking isn't healthy, Hank. You can't keep falling back on alcohol.”

“Look, either give me a bottle or I'm heading for the nearest tavern.” Hank snarled. “I’m fucking pissed so either I drink here or I drink in town and start a bar fight cause the longer I'm sober the angrier I'm going to get.”

Wilson looked as if he was going to turn Hank away, but then his resolve crumbled. With a defeated shake of the head, he placed a bottle of wine on the counter. Hank snatched it quickly and went towards the table farthest away from everyone else.

He sat down and quickly popped the cork off, chugging straight from the bottle. Connor hesitated next to the table before tentatively sitting across from him. Sumo whined and laid down on the floor. For a while, the two sat in silence and Connor debated whether he should say anything about Hank’s drinking habits. 

Hank broke the silence first. “Y’know, sometimes I wish I didn't give a shit about other people. It'd be a lot easier to do my job if I just followed orders like a good paladin.” He took a swing from the bottle. “What's it like?”

Connor blinked, confused. “What’s what like?” 

Hank waved a hand lazily. “Being a Dog. Your whole schtick is that you uphold the law without hesitation. I'm surprised the King doesn't just replace all paladins with Dogs. It's more efficient in the long run.” He took another swing of wine. “To be honest, I'm a little envious. If I didn't care so much I would still be the Order’s star paladin. I was the youngest to become lieutenant, you know.” He swirled his bottle around, his words beginning to slur now. “Best of my class. I lead raids against the Red Ice and saved the kingdom, all in my prime! Now look at me. Washed out and drinking myself into an early grave.”

Hank fell silent again, becoming lost in his spiraling thoughts. Connor watched and couldn't help but feel helpless in the face of Hank’s frustration. He thought back to when Hank had lectured him about recklessly charging into battle. He'd been touched by Hank's concern. He'd long since given up on life and expected to die within the year, maybe even less. And here was someone who wanted him to live, who cared enough to step in and offer a hand to help. 

He thought about how they had stopped to get clothes for him that afternoon. Hank didn't need to do that, but he did. All this time Hank had been helping him out of the kindness of his grumpy, jaded heart. And for once, Connor wanted to help someone else in return. 

“I don't think you should be envious, Lieutenant. If anything, I'm the one who should be envious.” Hank blinked, looking up at Connor, who was fiddling with his coin again. “To fight for what you believe in, to make your own decisions and everyone else be damned what they think, is something people take for granted. Staying true to your morals is an admirable trait and you shouldn't regret something like that.” Connor looked up from his coin and jumped when he saw Hank watching him thoughtfully. He quickly shoved his coin back into his pocket, embarrassed that he'd been too caught up in his speech. “I’m sorry, I spoke out of line again.”

“No, don't be sorry. I’m sorry for forcing you to listen to the ramblings of a drunk old man,” he chuckled dully. He reached for the bottle again, but this time Connor quickly grabbed it and moved it out of his reach. “Connor,” Hank frowned, “give it back.”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink. How about I get you some water and then we can turn in early?”

Hank glared, then he sighed. “Fine, fine, have it your way.” Connor turned away, relieved that Hank wasn't going to fight him for the bottle, and went to the counter.

Wilson looked up from cleaning as Connor approached. He raised an eyebrow when the half empty bottle was placed on the counter. “Well, color me impressed. You managed to stop him before he finished the bottle.”

“I didn't really do anything.” Connor said, a little self consciously. “Can I just get a cup of water? For the Lieutenant.”

“Of course. Name’s Wilson by the way. You're the Dog assigned to Hank, right? What's your name?”

Connor blinked, briefly surprised by Wilson's friendly demeanor. “Connor.”

“Connor, thank you for stopping Hank before he got out of control. He means well and his heart is in a good place, but he just hasn't been the same since his son died. Can't really blame him though, his son meant the world to him.” Wilson put the cup in front of him. Connor reached out and picked it up. Just as he was debating whether he should ask about Hank’s son or not, a voice spoke up behind him, causing him to freeze. 

“How cute, Hank’s little pet is fetching him water. Why don't you be a good slave and get me a drink?” Reed taunted. He stood just behind Connor with another paladin. 

“Reed,” warned Wilson, “leave him alone.”

Reed sneered at Wilson. “Why are you sticking up for it? It's supposed to listen to whatever we tell it to do. Besides, why does Hank get all the fun bossing it around? Maybe I should ask Fowler to assign one to me.” Reed grinned at the thought. 

Connor picked up the cup and tried to sneak away while Reed’s attention was elsewhere. Unfortunately, he wasn't distracted enough and dropped his grin when he noticed Connor trying to escape. Reed moved in front of him with a sneer.

“And where do you think you're going?” 

Connor kept his eyes down and tried to appear as submissive as possible. “Excuse me, but I really must be getting back.”

“Get me a drink first and then maybe I'll consider letting you go.”

Connor glanced up and saw Reed’s shit eating grin. In his mind, he knew that he should just get Reed his drink and he'd let him go without anymore trouble. However, the thought of giving in to his demands caused a burst of anger to bubble up within him. So instead of turning to Wilson and ordering a drink for Reed, Connor raised his head, looked him straight in the eyes, and said, “I'm sorry, but I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson.”

Reed’s grin froze on his face. “Oh? Is that right?” He turned back to his friend and gestured at Connor as if to say ‘can you believe this?’ Suddenly, he turned back around and punched Connor in the stomach.

Connor yelped in pain and fell to his knees, clutching his middle. The cup clattered to the floor and water splashed everywhere. Distantly, Connor could hear Wilson shouting something, but he was too busy trying to catch his breath to hear what he was saying. Reed leaned down next to him. 

“Listen, you're here to follow our orders. You might be special because you belong to the crown, but you're still slaves so you better behave like one or I'm going to tell them that you need be sent back for some obedience training.”

Connor curled in on himself and felt the cold water soaking into his pants. Despite the shame and regret burning him from the inside out, he couldn't help but agree with Reed. What was he doing? He didn't have any right to refuse him. He was just a slave, existing only to listen and serve. He'd gotten too emboldened by Hank's words. He'd been so spoiled by Hank’s kindness that he'd forgotten his place. He felt himself shutting down, his emotional turmoil fading to a dull ache and his mind becoming blissfully blank. He was an obedient Dog. He was a mindless tool. He was--

“What the fuck do you think you're doing!?” Connor looked up and saw Hank approaching like an oncoming storm. Sumo bounded up to Connor, whining as he nosed his cheek. Then, he turned to Reed and gave him a thunderous growl. 

Reed looked up and smiled at Hank, who looked like he was just a hair’s breadth away from punching him in the face. He stood up. “Nothing, just putting your pet in its proper place. You really should keep a tighter leash on it.”

“You fucking piece of shit!” Hank moved to stand in front of Connor. He grabbed Reed by the collar and snarled in his face. “Just because he's a slave doesn't give you the right to treat him like shit.”

Reed bared his teeth back at him. “That's rich, coming from the biggest piece of shit in this Order. Look at you. You used to be the best of the best and now you just sit around, drinking and shirking your duties.

I heard you went to Fowler about that slave you picked up. I'm guessing he refused your request?” Reed taunted him. “Can't think of another reason why you would be so angry.”

“That's none of your fucking business.”

“Y’know, I don't understand why Fowler doesn't just demote you.” Reed continued as if he hadn't heard Hank. “You know what your problem is? You care too much. You haven't learned how to put your personal feelings aside and just do your fucking job!”

By now, the whole mess hall was watching the confrontation. The room was utterly silent as everyone held their breath, waiting to see what Hank would do next. Connor was so sure that Hank was going to start beating Reed into the ground. 

“That's where you're wrong,” Hank said in a low, dangerously calm voice that had everyone straining to hear. “I didn't become a lieutenant from following orders. I got this rank because I went above and beyond what was needed of me. Out of everyone here, I'm the oldest and I seem to be the only one who remembers that our creed is to serve and protect the helpless, no matter who or what they are.

That's why I'm a lieutenant and you're still just a knight.”

Hank raised his head proudly, looking like the regal paladin he once-- still was. Reed’s anger and desperation started bleeding into his face as he struggled to find something to retort. Chris quickly stepped in between them. 

“Okay guys, cut it out. We don't need a brawl here so how about we all just sit down and--”

“Your bleeding heart will be your downfall, Anderson.” Reed’s eyes lit up with a desperate light, needing to get the last word in. “Come to think of it, wasn't that how Cole died? From caring too much about a slave?” The grin returned. “But I guess it's true what they say. Like father like son--” 

The room exploded into chaos. 

Hank shouted in rage and lunged at Reed. “Shut your fucking mouth--”

“You wanna fight? I'll give you a fight--”

“Guys! Calm the fuck down--” 

“What's going on here!?” Everyone in the room froze. Fowler stood in the doorway, the weight of his wrath heavy in his face. 

Reed stood still with one fist in the air while two paladins grappled his arms in an attempt to hold him back. Chris and Wilson, who had come out from the kitchen, were holding back Hank. Connor was still kneeling on the floor, looking a little dazed. 

“Are you paladins or school children? If you have a problem with one another take it out to the training grounds.” Fowler looked over the group and scowled when he saw Hank and Reed in the middle of it. “Reed! You know the rules!”

Reed glared at Fowler, jerking out away from the two paladins holding him. “I was just leaving, sir.” He turned to Hank with a scowl and pointed a finger. “This isn't over.” His eyes flickered to Connor, who twitched. Reed turned away sharply and walked away, past Fowler, and out the door.

Fowler watched Reed leave with narrowed eyes. When he left, he turned to Hank. 

Hank sighed. “I’m gonna turn in early, don't worry.” He turned back to Connor and held out a hand to help him up. Connor looked at it like he'd never seen a hand before. Hank sighed. “C’mon kid, I don't have all day.”

Connor shook himself out of his daze, suddenly aware that everyone was watching him. “I can help myself up.” He pushed himself up, brushing off his knees and grimacing at the wet patches where the water soaked in.

Hank dropped his hand with a frown and made his own exit from the room. Connor hurried after him, his back crawling as everyone watched them leave.

The walk back to Hank’s room was one in silence, causing Connor to become nervous the closer they got. When they finally stepped inside, he felt like he was crawling out of his skin. He pulled out his coin and focused on bouncing it back and forth to calm his nerves. 

Hank slowly stripped off his armor, leaving a trail leading towards his bed. He sat down heavily, pulled off his boots, and laid back to stare blankly at the ceiling. Sumo padded up to the bed and laid his head on the edge. Hank reached over and absent-mindedly stroked his head.

Connor focused the repetitive clinking of his coin, using the noise and motion to calm his nerves. “Lieutenant,” he said softly, “Thank you for stepping in. You didn't have to do that.”

Hank didn't reply and the tension in the room became heavier. Finally, he said, “If Cole was here, he wouldn't have let Reed off with that kind of shitty behavior.”

Connor stopped flipping his coin. He frowned when he tried to place who Cole was. He vaguely remembered Reed saying the name. If he was remembering the conversation correctly then. “Cole was… your son?”

“Yeah, wanted to be just like his pa. I remember when he finally finished his training and was promoted to knight. He said that he'd make the Anderson name proud. He always believed that slavery was wrong.” Hank chuckled. “He was stubborn, never knew when to back down in a fight. A true Anderson.”

Connor inched closer to the bed. “Wilson talked about him a little. He sounded like a great paladin.”

Hank nodded. “He was. Always tried to do what was right even if it was against orders. I used to tell him that one day he'd get himself killed like that. Told him to just leave the slaves alone. This kingdom has always had slavery and there was no way it'd be abolished in his lifetime.” Hank frowned, lost in his memories. 

“We got into a lot of arguments over it. One day, it escalated until we were shouting at each other till we were hoarse. He told me that I was too complacent with tradition. I told him that they were just slaves so why should we care. He was so angry after I said that and stormed out.” He paused. “A supply caravan was attacked by rebels later that day and we went out to deal with them.” He grimaced. “We tried to capture them but most of them escaped. One of the rebels we captured looked sick and Cole tried to help him. He ended up getting stabbed instead, and the slave he tried to help slit his own throat.”

“Oh…”

Hank nodded his head lethargically. “I was pretty angry for a long time. Became like Reed for a couple years. Eventually, I got tired of being angry all the time and started drinking instead. Better than dealing with the guilt.” Hank paused again. “One day, I decided I'd try to put myself in Cole’s shoes for once, try to see how he saw the world. I watched slaves being sold on the square. Saw them shaking and staring back with such emptiness and I realized Cole was right. I swore an oath to help those who were suffering and I chose to ignore the ones who were suffering the most.”

Hank settled into an uneasy silence as Connor processed everything. Finally, he shuffled his feet. “For what it's worth, I think helping that slave was a step in the right direction.”

Hank blinked, as if he forgot he had an audience to his ramblings. “You think so?” 

Connor nodded. “The fact that you were able to see where you were wrong and admit it shows that you've grown between then and now. If Cole was alive, I think he'd be proud of you for standing up against injustice.”

“Heh,” Hank snorted, “that's probably the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time. For awhile, I thought you were just some emotionless puppet sent to mock me cause I've been avoiding my duties. But I was wrong. For a Dog, you're pretty damn expressive when you wanna be.”

Connor’s eyes widened. “I'm sorry!” he exclaimed, flustered. “I know that I'm supposed to concentrate on helping the Order and be objective on everything but I haven't quite mastered how to--” A loud snore startled Connor out of his rambling. “Lieutenant?” 

He leaned over and saw that Hank had finally passed out, the alcohol finally catching up with him. Connor sighed and looked about the room, frowning at the armor littering the floor. He quietly moved everything out of the way until it was neatly stacked against the wall. With a small, satisfied smile he started for his room, deciding to turn in.

When he stepped inside, he immediately noticed a small stack of clothes sitting on his bed. He approached it curiously before examining it. Suddenly, he realized that it was the new clothes that Hank had bought him earlier that day, which seemed so long ago now. He thoughtfully thumbed the material and looked outside his room to Hank, who was still blissfully passed out. 

He looked between Hank and the clothes a few times with a frown. Finally he squared his shoulders, decided on his course of action, and headed out of the room. As he reached the door leading out of Hank’s room, he felt a wet nose touch his hand. Connor looked down at Sumo, who panted happily. 

“Sumo, stay.” Connor ordered. Sumo whined unhappily but sat. “Good boy,” he praised, giving the dog a pat on the head. “Don't worry, I'll be right back.” Quietly, he slipped out the door, closing it with a soft click, and started off towards the barracks. 

 

The barracks was once an armory where the Order kept their weapons, but after their numbers increased the building simply became too small to accommodate the sheer amount of weaponry. Now, it was a place to hold criminals. It had twelve cells, six on one side and six on the other, usually for holding petty criminals or slaves that had committed a crime. There was only one entrance into the building and it was guarded by two paladins.

Guard duty was a boring job, considering that the criminals contained were usually just drunkards who’d gotten too aggressive in a bar fight, and the two guards on duty were bored out of their minds. So, it was understandable that when they saw smoke rising up from the direction of the stables they immediately ran over to check it out, leaving the doorway completely unguarded. 

Oro looked out beyond the bars, curious of the shouting and frantic bells ringing in the distance. When he saw a cloaked person coming down the hall, he immediately assumed the worst. He backed away from the bars and pressed up against the wall. The person stopped in front of his cell and quickly opened the door. 

“Hurry up,” the figured urged, throwing down an identical cloak in front of Oro. “they'll have the fire put out soon and then it'll be too late to run.”

Oro made no move towards the cloak, instead he eyed the figure distrustfully. “How do I know you're not just going to take me somewhere and kill me?” 

The figure tilted his head. “If I wanted to kill you I would've done it already or just left you here to be executed. So, are we going or not?”

Oro looked at the cloak once more and then picked it up. As the two left the cell, Oro saw that the other cells that had people in them were all open. “You let go of the other prisoners?” 

“It'd be suspicious if only you were missing so I let everyone out.”

They crept out of the barracks, sneaking around corners and keeping to the shadows. Finally, they reached the wall farthest away from all the commotion. The cloaked figure examined the wall, then turned to Oro. “Do you think you can get over this?” 

Oro frowned. “If my wings weren't clipped. At best, I can glide although it is an unsteady glide.”

The figure nodded. “That'll be fine then.” He leaned with his back against the wall and bent his knees, cupping his hands in front. “Up you go.”

Oro looked bewildered when he looked his rescuer and then the high wall. “I won't be able to climb over.”

“You're not going to climb, I'm giving you a boost. Hurry up!” Oro put his foot in his hands and steadied himself on his shoulders. “I'm going to launch you on three. One, two, three!”

Oro felt the figure tense and then launch him up. To his surprise, he felt a sudden gust of wind that boosted him right over the wall. In a panic, he opened his wings and felt the wind catch beneath his clipped feathers. The drop to the ground wasn't the smoothest landing he ever made, but he didn't break any bones so considered it a success. 

He looked behind him and saw the figure drop from above, using his magic to slow his descent to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he quickly started ushering Oro deep into the forest. When they were deep enough into the forest that they couldn't see the wall anymore Oro stopped. After a few steps the figure realized that Oro had stopped and turned back impatiently. 

“You can drop the act. I already know what's going to happen.” Oro said bitterly. The figure tilted his head, as if confused by his statement. Oro felt a burst of frustration. “I'm not going to fall for your tricks, Dog.”

The figure seemed to sigh, and then pushed down his hood. “It's not a trick.” Connor said with a frown. “I'm letting you go, but don't think I'm doing this for you. I'm only doing this because I owe the Lieutenant.” He looked out beyond the trees. “This is as far as I'm taking you. Where you escape to or how you get there is none of my concern. It's all up to you.”

Connor turned back to Oro, who was still watching him warily. “You promise you're not going to send them after me when I leave?” 

Connor nodded. “You have my word. But if I see you again I won't hesitate to kill you. This will be the only time.” He looked away. “Go, before I change my mind.”

Oro’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you,” he injecting as much thankfulness as he could into his voice. “I won't forget this.” Connor said nothing and just watched Oro moved into the shadows of the forest. Just before he disappeared, Oro turned back to Connor. “I hope that one day you can be free as well.” And then he was gone. Connor watched for a moment longer, and then started heading back. 

Suddenly, he was overcome by a wave of dizziness. He stumbled and reached out to steady himself against a tree. He leaned heavily against the tree trunk, eyes screwed shut as he waited for it to pass. Finally, when he didn't feel like he was going to tip over, he stood up and sighed. He started walking back again, absentmindedly rubbed his neck. “Just this once,” he whispered to himself. 

High above the treetops, an owl watched him walk away. Then it flew off into the night, following after Oro in the dark. 

 

Hank stumbled into the courtyard to the sight of the stable blazing. Squires and paladins were running back and forth with buckets of water, trying to quell the blaze Chris stood amongst them, directing them to the areas that desperately needed them.

“Chris! What's going on?” Hank shouted. 

Chris turned to Hank, lightly covered in ash and soot. “A fire broke out. The squires think that one of the stable boys might’ve left a lamp inside and the horses accidentally kicked it.” he said, though he didn't look like he believed the excuse himself. 

“You don't look too sure.” Hank noted. 

“I mean, it's not an impossible explanation. I just feel it's too-”

A sudden shout drew their attention from the other side of the courtyard. “The prisoners are escaping!” 

Hank’s thoughts immediately went to Oro, his mind flashing to when Connor was ready to kill him on the spot. “Fuck!” He set off sprinting towards the barracks. Chris called to him but whatever he said was lost to the rushing adrenaline in his veins. 

Hank burst into the barracks and scanned all the cells. A wave of relief washed over him when he didn't see any dead bodies. However, he couldn't help but notice that he hadn't seen Connor once since coming outside. Just as he stumbled out of the barracks, prepared to search the entire premise for him, he spotted Connor wandering through the crowds. 

“Connor!” Connor’s head snapped towards him. Hank ran up to him, noting his guarded Dog facade. “Where have you been?” 

“I heard the fire alarm and came out to see what was going on. I saw that the squires were taking care of the blaze so I circled around the base to make sure it wasn't a surprise attack. The guards for the barracks weren't at their post when I came over so I checked the cells and they were all empty.” He frowned. “I was able to aid in capturing the ones that weren't fast enough to escape the premise, but there are still a few still missing. Either they're hiding somewhere or they've already fled.”

Hank watched Connor with narrowed eyes. “What about Oro?” 

Connor shook his head. “The slave is long gone. It was the first one I tried looking for but it appears it's no longer in the base.”

Before Hank could grill him for more information, Chris came up next to him. “We've managed to get everything under control,” he reported to Hank. Behind him, Hank saw Connor pull away to look over the prisoners they'd recaptured. “Out of the seven prisoners that escaped we were only able to catch three. We have search dogs out looking for them.” He frowned and crossed his arms. “One of the trails led to the wall and only one missing prisoner had the means to escape over it.”

Hank caught Chris’ hint. “The harpy’s wings were clipped though. He wouldn't have been able to fly over it.”

Chris shrugged. “I can't think of another explanation. Unless, he had help.” Both Chris and Hank instinctively looked over to Connor, who was standing off to the side and watching everyone work. He seemed to notice he was being watched and turned to look at them. When he saw them both watching, he tilted his head.

Chris moved closer to Hank. “To be honest, when I heard what the slave did I wasn't on board with executing it either. I won't say anything if you won't.”

Hank turned his gaze away from Connor and put his hand on his face. He chuckled. “That kid might be the death of me,” he muttered with faux despair. He turned back to Chris. “Thank you.” 

“Anderson!” The two conspirators turned and saw Reed approach, looking livid. He stopped in front of Hank. “I know you planned this.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Planned what? The stable catching fire? I heard that a stable boy left his lamp in there.”

“That's bullshit and we all know it. Everyone knows that you didn't agree with the Captain’s decision. Don't you think it's suspicious that of all the prisoners who escaped one of them was your slave?”

Hank shrugged. “While I'm flattered that you think I could pull this off, I'm afraid that I was passed out in my room when the stable caught fire. Plus, I'm too old to be sneaking around anymore.”

“Hank was with me when the prison break happened so it wasn't him.” Chris confirmed.

Reed glared at Chris, whether he was mad because Chris was taking Hank’s side or because he was right Hank wasn't too sure. He turned to the courtyard at large and saw Connor. A smug grin appeared on his face and Hank’s mood immediately soured. “What about that Dog? Was he here when the prisoners escaped? I bet it helped the slave. It would be obvious, since they're the same.”

Hank glared. “You're just saying that because you have it out for him.”

“Why don't you call him over and we can asked him what happened?” growled Reed. 

Hank huffed before motioning over Connor, who was watching from his spot. He walked over, watching Reed warily. “Connor, Reed thinks you're the one who freed the prisoners.”

Connor blinked at them and frowned. “Why would he think that?” 

“He thinks that because you're a witch you're obviously the culprit.”

Connor looked at Reed with wide eyes, the perfect image of innocence. “Knight Reed,” Connor said in that infuriatingly polite tone of his, “as a Dog it is my mission to aid the Order. Freeing the prisoners seems rather detrimental to it. Besides, I was helping in their recapture. You can ask paladin Chen, I helped her catch two.” He tilted his head. “Were you able to catch any?” he asked innocently. 

Reeds face became bright red and Hank fought the urge to laugh. Instead, he stepped between Reed and Connor before the situation could escalate. “Alright, if you're done asking questions there's still things to do. Reed, help them finishing clean up this mess. That's an order.” Reed glared at them once more before departing. 

Chris shook his head. “You're on his shit list now. I don't envy you.”

Hank just grinned. “I'm not too worried.” Then, he reached out to wrap an arm around Connor’s shoulders. “If everything is wrapped up here I'll be heading back.” He gently started urging Connor in the direction of his room. 

“Good night, Hank.” Chris gave them a final wave before disappearing. 

Hank chuckled. “Gotta say, I was pretty impressed with that acting. The look of Reeds face when you caught him with his pants down was great.”

Connor frowned. “But he was wearing pants?” 

“Figure of speech,” Hank said, waving one hand, “but that was very good acting on your part. Didn't think you had it in you to pull off something like this.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Lieutenant.” Though he was monotone when he said this, Hank could see a hint of a smile curling the edges of his mouth. 

“Just call me Hank. I'm getting tired of hearing lieutenant all the time.”

“Of course Lieu- Hank. Of course, Hank.” Connor frowned as he tried to get used to using Hank’s name. 

Hank just patted him on the shoulder. “We'll work on it. Let's just sleep, the alcohol hasn’t completely left my system yet.”

“Yes,” Connor smiled and followed Hank back, basking in the warm glow of his praise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to flukks for being my beta reader again and thanks to everyone who commented last chapter

**Author's Note:**

> Sumo isn't a saint bernard here. i re imagined him as a tibetan mastiff cause those dogs look majestic as fuck. i have a faint idea where i want this to go but not a set end point. may or may not make this a multichapter fic depending on how it goes.


End file.
